“How did you find us?” I say through the bread as Ale’s worried face appears over Paola’s shoulder.
“A rumor,” she says. “Apparently, one of the maids at the House of Serpico saw you go this way. The guards will be close behind me—although I heard them arguing over who has to search down here, the superstitious lumps.”
“You’re superstitious,” I remind her.
“But I’m always prepared.” She produces a small pouch out of her bosom and waves it around me, like she’s warding off demons. I’m very familiar with Paola’s protective blends. This one smells characteristically horrid—like too-spicy peppers and rotten garlic.
“So the guards know we’re here,” I say.
“And they’ve searched everywhere else,” she says. “You can’t make enemies in Occhia.”
You can’t make enemies in Occhia is one of Paola’s favorite sayings. It means that even two Occhians who live in distant manors in distant neighborhoods will see each other at every worship and every party and every holiday market. This, of course, has never stopped me from making enemies before. I like being able to see them.
“We just have to find a way back up to the city,” I say. “One that’s not crawling with guards. Then—”
“It’s not just the guards, Emanuela,” she says.
“What?” I say.
“Everyone knows what you did,” she says. “Everyone’s looking for you, and they want to see you punished. They’re desperate for it, actually. I’ve never seen the city like this.”
Everyone is looking for me. The thought is, somehow, equal parts disconcerting and pleasing. They’re not thinking of me as the girl who was stripped naked and dragged out of her own wedding. Not anymore.
“Why are they so worried about me?” I say. “If they were smart, they’d be hoarding water.”
Paola’s face turns grim.
“There’s no water to hoard,” she says.
“But the underground well—” I say.
“The underground well is nearly empty,” she says. “The men from Parliament rushed there and found nothing but a few drops. Word got out, and then the panic really started.”
My mouthful of bread feels like it’s turned to ash.
“But…” Ale says, his face white. “But it can’t be empty. It’s not supposed to be empty.”
“Tell that to the well, boy,” Paola says impatiently. “Nobody knows where the water went. There’s all kinds of talk in the streets. Most people think you took it, somehow, which is just—” She pauses, eyeing me suspiciously. “You didn’t, did you? Are you hiding it somewhere to make a point? If anyone could—”
I force down my bread and cough. “Alas, even I don’t know how to steal an entire well.”
Paola reaches into the bag at her side and pulls out a small jug of water. She presses it into my hands, and I take a long drink.
“But, Paola—” I’m a little breathless as I lower the jug. “It doesn’t make sense. We should have had lots of water. The watercrea was taking so much blood. More than we realize.”
“What do you mean?” she says.
I want to explain what I saw in the tower. All those people, sobbing and wasting away. Two little girls crammed into the same cell. The watercrea wasn’t squeezing out the last drops from doomed Occhians. She was meticulously draining her prisoners for everything she could get—prisoners who turned themselves in because of omens that aren’t spreading.
I’m supposed to be the only one with an omen that isn’t spreading. I can’t quite wrap my head around what it means. I can’t put it into words with her and Ale staring at me. But two things are very certain: I didn’t belong in the tower, and it’s good that the watercrea is dead.
Even if the underground well is empty. Even if the city is descending into chaos. Even if I have no idea how to fix it and no time to figure it out.
I take another drink, desperately.
Then, all at once, it hits me. Paola just told me that there’s no more water. Only wealthy people will have enough on hand to survive. And yet, here she is, presenting me with an entire jug.
“This—this is yours—” I hold it out to her.
She pushes back. “It’s yours.”
She knows the guards are coming. And yet, she snuck down here. For me. I’m so used to Paola’s presence—she woke me up every morning and brought me hot chocolate every night and listened to my constant monologue of very important opinions—that I hadn’t even thought about what it means for her to have sought me out. No one from my family has sought me out. But I’m sure there’s a good reason for that.
“My papá,” I say. “He’ll help us. He will. If we can just—”
“You can’t get to him, Emanuela,” she says. “The heads of the Houses have all locked themselves in the Parliament building. I’m telling you—it’s bad up there.”
“But—”
Somewhere in the distance, a door cracks open. It’s followed by the thudding of dozens of pairs of feet.
Paola yanks me up and shoves me at Ale.
“You need to run,” she says.
I don’t want to run. I want to help her. I want to know exactly how to fix all this. But I don’t. I don’t even know where to start, and for a moment, I’m frozen as that fact looms in my mind, huge and terrifying.
“We’re going to find a way,” Ale says.
Paola and I both turn to him.
“What?” Paola says.
“We’re going to find a way to get more water,” he says. “Right, Emanuela?”
His voice is uncertain, but his eyes are wide and trusting. It’s the way he’s looked at me since the moment we met.
He’s looking at me like he needs me. Because he does.
They all need me. I’m the only person in a thousand years who had what it took to best the watercrea. That means I’m the only person who has what it takes to replace her.
Of course it does. I can figure out how to do something no Occhian has ever done, because I’m not like any other Occhian.
My people
